Cake
by remember-nomore
Summary: Cowritten with Cat. Willow's spell fails, killing her and leaving Tara swallowed in grief. Spike and Tara find comfort in each other, things get even more intense when Lindsey McDonald comes to town...
1. Chapter 1

The day was overcast, so much so it even looked likely it might storm. Not too common an event here in good old Sunny D, but it did happen. Either way, overcast was good for him, meant a bloke could step out in daylight, maybe find himself a nice patch of shade to hang about in, catch the going ons of the day, so to speak. 'Course even thought it broke the monotony - change from sleeping and boozing and i Passions /i - Spike wasn't too sure if it was worth it. It sure as hell wasn't earning him any sodding brownie points with the Scoobies, seeing they didn't even know he was about. Not that he bloody cared about that anyway, although it did make life a might easier for him from time to time. He sighed and stubbed his fag out on the tree, only to pull out his lighter and light another one.

Yeah, at least if there'd been a nice blazing sun in the sky he would've been able to justify staying in his crypt and drinking himself into a stupor like he usually did these days. Wasn't though, was he? No, he had to be a glutton for sodding punishment as usual, had to come and join the bloody grief parade, or at least get himself a nice front row seat to watch the proceedings. And front row seat it was because from his safe little vantage point under the big elm near his crypt he could see each and every one of those sodding do-gooders as they stood huddled 'round the second freshly dug grave in so many months. He couldn't see the thing itself, or the coffin that was no doubt hovering over it, but he could smell the upturned earth, and the smell of it tickled his nostrils. Like always, it took him back to his own brief time under the damp earth.

Seemed so bloody far away from the sham he was living now that it made him want to kill people. "A bloody lot of people," he muttered to himself, glaring at the black clad group huddled in the distance. The thought crossed his mind that Buffy wouldn't be too pleased about that little nugget of info, if she'd heard him say it 'course she wouldn't would she? Good thing too, because maybe now he'd say things like that a lot more.

Harris moved aside a little and once again, thoughts of Spike's own death ran through his mind. He remembered it like it was yesterday, waking up in that bloody box, being scared out of his mind, slashing at the wood like a madman before his fist cracked through the wood and sunk into the wormy earth above it. He remember how he pulled himself upwards, the earth pressing around him, falling into his gaping mouth and dead lungs as he gasped for unneeded air and then the joy he felt when he reached the surface, and saw the dark angel that was standing there, waiting for him.

Most important journey of his life, that.

Willow wouldn't be making that same journey though or anything like it. No she was staying put. Staying put 'til there was nothing left of her but dust, that was the difference and they all knew it. He'd not been to Buffy's funeral. No, couldn't have bloody stomached it, watching them all carry on and even if he had put on a brave face he doubted he'd have been welcome. He knew it would have been different from how it was today though. They would've been sad, yeah, angry of course, but there would've been something else too; that little spark of hope hiding in the back of their minds, the hope that Red could work her mojo and bring the Slayer back to them. 'Course, he hadn't had the luxury of that hope, had he? Because the bloody bratpack hadn't seen fit to tell him a damn thing about their plans.

Probably for the best though, because it didn't work. Now he was glad he hadn't been given advance warning because he could see that it was now a hundred times worse than it would have been if they hadn't tried at all. Not only had they lost the Slayer and Red, but they'd lost their hope too. He saw it on their faces now, as they stared at the coffin that encased Red's magic addled body as it was lowered jerkily into the earth.

They knew it was the end of their merry little band of do-gooders.

Just then a sob broke through the pre-storm stillness of the day and Spike saw the Bit stoop over and start for the grave. Before she could throw herself onto it, or something equally bloody melodramatic, Tara caught her and pulled her into her arms. Spike watched as the blonde held her tight and from where he was standing he could almost catch the soothing words the witch was whispering into her ear as she stroked her hair. Spike wondered briefly how much of what she was doing for Dawn was for Dawn's benefit, and how much was for her own. Hell, it was her girlfriend that was getting the big send off. There was no way to tell either way though, because the girl stood steady, face blank of emotion as she comforted the bit, whispering something a little longer to her that he still couldn't quite catch.

He went to take another drag on his cigarette only to find that it'd burned down and out while he'd stared at the goings on ahead of him.

"Bugger this," he murmured, turning from the scene and walking back to his crypt, being sure to stay under cover of trees even though the day was getting dark and darker. It'd rain soon, he'd wager, he could smell it coming and he really didn't want to be out in it, whether it was a novelty or not.

The only thing he wanted to drown in right that minute was the bottle of Jack in his crypt.

Spike was halfway through the second bottle when he heard the crypt door squeak open softly. Even the increasing sedation of the alcohol wasn't enough to keep his brain from instantly thinking Buffy was at the door. He was about to turn around, smirk and say, "Slayer" when he realised. The pain he felt at the realisation was physical, worse than the chip in some ways and he dropped his face into his hands, forgetting in his drunken haze that he'd even heard the bloody door.

"S-spike?"

On hearing the soft voice, he spun around to see Tara standing at the door. Bloody brilliant, this was just what he needed; a visit from Glinda the good witch.

"What'dya want?" He said, surprised at how slurred his voice was…and how strong and confident hers sounded. Whosefuneral had they just had again?

"Spike," she said, taking a few hesitant steps into the crypt, her black skirt swishing softly around her calves. "What are you doing? Y-you're supposed to be t-taking care of Dawn tonight. R-remember?"

Fuck. She was right; he'd promised the Bit yesterday that she could spend the night here after the funeral. Not like he could say no, could he? That kid'd had enough disappointment lately…and besides, he figured it'd mean he'd be able to squeeze some money out of droopy boy for videos or something and since she'd be content to sleep or play around with Dru's old crap, that meant he could spend it on more booze. So see? It worked out for everyone.

"Yeah, yeah," he replied, making a gesture with his arm to invite her in. "Bring 'er in then," he grinned and snorted out a laugh. "Think I can find another glass 'round here for 'er…she probably needs a drink right 'bout now." He leaned forward to grab his fags and collapsed back into the chair. "Know I do."

"Spike, y-you're drunk! She c-can't come here now." He heard her sigh and turned to look at her. "S-she was really looking f-forward to it, w-what will I t-tell her?" She sighed again, and Spike heard the sadness and tiredness in her voice this time. "I-I…I don't t-think I can—"

"Don't fret, love," Spike said, struggling to his feet and trying not to sway. He had to feel sorry for the bird, s'pose the last thing she wanted to do was look after the Slayer's little sis at a time like this. He promised he'd have her over and he would. Couldn't break a promise to a lady, after all. "Bit under the weather now, but tell you what." He bend down to pick up his coat. "I'll walk over to the house; time I get there I'll be right."

She looked at him sceptically, but he could tell she was desperate and wouldn't argue.

"Promise," Spike assured her. "Vampire constitution."

"O-okay," she said softly. "C-come by in an hour or t-two." Without saying anything else she turned and walked out of the crypt. He watched her go, thinking that he knew what her problem was, why she always ended up with the short end of the bloody stick. It was because she always thought about everybody else over herself. Willow, now Dawn… kinda pathetic really.

The door slammed behind her and Spike sighed, dropping back into his seat and taking another swig from the bottle. He had two hours to sober up, meant he could drink for at least another hour.

Sighing in frustration Spike took another drag on his cigarette before stubbing it out on the trunk of the tree he was standing under. i _Thing sure has taken a beating /i ,_ he thought, looking at its pock marked bark and grimacing slightly, 'course that could be said most things around good old Sunny D. In the tree's case though, you couldn't really blame a bloke. He'd been standing around under the sodding thing for the best past of an hour waiting for Dawn to finish up with the big group mourning bit so he could get the bloody hell out of here and back to the crypt to finish drinking.

He looked over at the soft glow coming from the windows of Bu—the Summers' house. Soaked in death that place was, couldn't even bring i _himself_ /i to step foot in it today and he was already dead, that's how bad it was. All joking aside though, it was the sodding truth. First Joyce then Buffy and now Red…how Dawn was going to carry on was beyond him. Hell, he could hardly cope with Buffy's…

But he wasn't going to think about that, 'least not when there wasn't a steady supply of Jack on hand back at the crypt.

Bloody hell, he was going to piss off in a minute if the Bit didn't get her little arse out here. By all rights he should have pissed off long before this, but he made promise to Buffy; said he'd look after Dawn, and so what choice did he have? Anyway, wasn't like he was going to last long anywhere else with this fucking chip stuck in his head.

"Oh _bugger_ this," he grumbled, stalking out from underneath the tree and heading towards the house. The last bloody thing he needed to be doing was standing around letting his mind wander, dwelling on the past only led to more misery and he'd been there, done that and didn't intend to repeat the trip.

Not intending to waste any more of his valuable time. He jogged up the front steps and pounded on the front door. If Dawn was staying with him tonight she was coming now or not at all. The door swung inward and there was Tara. i _Bugger /i _, he thought, i _why'd it have to be her again_/i Spike looked into her red rimmed eyes for a moment before averting his eyes and looking past her into the house.

Part of Spike couldn't stand seeing the girl like they'd never talked much, well not unless you counted the insults and the face punching, but he'd always…bugger it, let's be honest about things; he'd always liked her. She had a strength, a grace even and she was no little girl. Look at her now for god's sake, holding the place together while the rest of them fell to bits. Didn't seem fair.

"So, is she ready to go, then?" he asked,looking past Tara and up the stairs. "Got all her stuffed toys and whatnot packed?"

"S-she'll be down in a minute," she replied, looking Spike over, trying to tell if he was still drunk. He was, but she needn't know about it. "How are you doing?"

Bloody typical, asking everyone how they were, when she was the one needed asking after, it was actually enough to piss a bloke off, really. Why didn't she just cry or i _something_/i Get it the hell over with. Problem seemed to be that nobody had bothered to i _ask /i _her how she was doing, not any of the Scooby mourning brigade anyway. All too busy wallowing in their own pain he'd wager. Especially droopy boy and hell, if that wasn't funny to watch…pathetic git…

"I'm doing just brilliant. You know, for a once bad-ass creature of the night that now has an electronic babysitter buried in the middle of his brain." He sighed, "But that isn't going to change any time soon." Spike shoved his hands into the pockets of his duster and rolled his eyes. Why the hell did picking up the pieces of this family have to be left to him? He looked at her, trying to catch her gaze.

"How are you doing, pet?" he asked softly.

"Thank you. F-for the past six m-months I've asked everyone that. You're t-the first to ask me." Tara managed a weak smile, trying to get across that she was being serious and his words had meant something to her.

Spike watched as she sighed and a thoughtful look crossed her face. If what she said was true, someone in that bloody house needed their arsekicked good and proper. If only he could do it…well, he'd've probably done it a long time ago, but still.

After a moment she finally spoke again, speaking honest words for once in a long time. "I'm breaking. I n-need to get away. I've been thinking of leaving town actually. There's a great art s-school that I've been wanting to go to… I don't know, I don't have anything keeping me here."

Leaving? Well, that was a bloody awful idea. Suddenly Spike realised that if she left then it was going to be down to him to make sure the nibblet didn't get eaten or bled like a stuck pig by some bitch God from hell, and no way was he signing up for sole guardianship of any mystical key, i _or /i _a teenaged girl, come to that. No bloody thanks. Oh yeah, Glinda needed to stay put.

"Uh…you know I'm not sure that's such a good idea. Leaving and all," he started, staring absently up the stairs and listening for any sign of Dawn and wishing she'd hurry the hell up.

"I mean, where're you going to go?" he asked. "Plus, there's Dawn to think of. Who's going to look after her if you're not around? Droopy boy and his ex-demon girlfriend?" Spike chuckled lightly at the idea. "Not bloody likely. I've lived with him, you know and it's not pretty."

She still looked unconvinced. Time for the big guns then.

"Can't imagine Red would've wanted you to skip town and leave Dawn to fend for herself."

Spike watched as her face fell at his words and realised that he hadn't changed; he was a bad, evil man.

Oh well.

"Spike. Get out," she spat. Okay, maybe he'd gone a bit far with the Red bit. "Spike, it might be best if you leave now. Wouldn't want you to fall on anything wooden..."

He couldn't help smirking. All that anger and all that pain, the fumes just came off her in waves and apart from making her smell bloody fantastic when you've got no soul things like that really are pretty damn funny.

'Cept lately they weren't. Not so much. He felt the grin fading from my face. There were a lot of people in the world that deserved to be hurting, hell, he could name ten right of the top of his head, but Spike was pretty sure that Tara wasn't one of them.

"All right, all right, no need to get your knickers in a twist," he said. "I'll go just as soon as…" he raised my voice and looked up the stairs. "…Dawn gets her dawdling little butt down here!"

There was no sign of her though and Spike sighed, looking back at Tara. Maybe he should apologise… it wasn't like Tara pissed him off as much as the others, after all, and she'd been nice enough to him.

"Look, love," he began. "I—"

"I'm ready!" He heard from behind Tara and Dawn came bounding down the stairs. She had a bag full of god knew what, and a look on her face that told Spike she wanted out of there fast. He had to agree with the sentiment.

"Come get her tomorrow," he said to Tara, grabbing Dawn's bag and making his way down the stairs. "And not to early yeah? Creature of the night here."


	2. Chapter 2

Tara watched from the door as Dawn and Spike headed away from the house, a small smile teasedher lips when she saw Spike hug the youngest Summers girl as they walked.'_Spike'll be good for her,'_ Tara thought, biting her lip and closing her eyes as she shut the door.

Everything shook inside her, making her feel like she was going to cry again. But Tara knew that wasn't it; Spike's words hit her in the gut and stung like a wound, making her hurt and ache inside. She was angry at him for mentioning Willow's name and a big part of her hated was that he was right and that his words made it feel like an obligation to those she'd come to love.

Slowly she walked towards the kitchen, moving around with slow movements as she cleaned up the dishes from the wake. A loud crash of one of the plates hitting the floor broke Tara out of her thoughts and she winced when she felt a sharp pain in her big toe. "Ouch." Exhaling sharply she moved over to the corner of the island and lifted her foot. "Clumsy." Reaching down she pulled the small shard of plate from her foot and moved carefully to the door to the basement for the broom.

She reached for the door handle and didn't realize that her hands were still shaking slightly, a heavy sigh left her lips and Tara leaned against the wall, closing her eyes and trying to let everything come back into focus again without blurring like her vision seemed to be doing more and more frequently these days.

Her mind started that knowing spin as she ran over in her mind things that had happened in the past few months. First with Glory taking her sanity away, then Buffy giving herself up… the final straw was Willow this past summer. Obsessing and focusing on nothing more than finding a way to bring Buffy back. It was noble and a wonderful thought but Tara couldn't help but feel neglected.

Those feelings were selfish and she shouldn't have them. Not when she just buried her lover not twelve hours ago, the ground not even hard.

There was an almost mechanical feeling to Tara's movements as she moved through the kitchen, first sweeping and then clearing all the dishes after the leftovers were placed in the fridge.

Moving quietly, Tara went to the living room to turn on the TV, flipping it on to the weather channel and curling up on the couch. Looking out the window she saw how quiet the streets were. There wasn't even anyone walking their dog at this time of day.

The house was too quiet for Tara's current liking, she reached over and turned up the TV a bit more, letting the noise fill the house. Tonight wasn't any different from any other night. Dawn was either at Spike's or Janis' these days, and Xander and Anya had the shop to take care of. There wasn't much for Tara to do lately but keep quiet, mourn in silence and when people were around smile and take care of everything.

She honestly didn't mind doing these things, she'd done them when she lived back home and now the only difference was that she loved the people she tried to take care of here in Sunnydale. She used to think she had Willow, but with Willow gone she doesn't have many valid ties to Sunnydale or this house anymore.

Her eyelids started getting heavier and Tara pulled the blanket from the back of the couch, her mind wondering when she'd become a lonely housewife.

Tara wrapped her arms around herself as she walked carefully through the damp cemetery heading towards Spike's crypt. She promised that she would pick Dawn up so he could go about his other plans Tara was sure he had. Tara didn't want Dawn to go for her own selfish reasons, but in the end she knew that it was best for the younger girl to be away from that house that was filled with so much misery.

_"Can't imagine Red would've wanted you to skip town and leave Dawn to fend for herself."_

Spike's words echoed in her mind from the night before and taunted her, digging at her and filling her with guilt. She had never thought of leaving Sunnydale… but last night she was almost ready to. Tara didn't think she'd ever felt that much anger or rage before. It was almost like he was goading her on, proving to her that she was chained to the house, to them. He knew mentioning Willow would upset her. And itdid. Spike might not have a soul, nor be a nice person… er… vampire. But he knew exactly what buttons to push on a person; both to make them feel better and then worse the next moment.

Taking a deep breath, she runs her fingers through her hair before tightening her arms around her middle, regretting not wearing a jacket. They said it was going to be warm out. Guess you can't count on that, even in California.

She slowly lifted her hand up to knock and then decided against it. Pushing open the door quickly and walking in. "Dawn. Let's go," she spoke flatly, not looking over at Spike but feeling his gaze burn into her. She wasn't in the mood for him and his 'ohh I'm evil, I can wound little girls with my mean words'. She just wanted to take Dawn and go. She wanted to leave the crypt and find her quiet corner where nobody notices her and break down out of everyone's way.

Spike watched Tara as if he was seeing a ghost. _'Shit, Buffy used to do that…. She'll never do it again now, and it's your entire fault getting chucked off that tower when all you had to do was…'_ He tried to ignore the ever present voice in his head that reminding him that he was responsible for Buffy's death. Before Spike knew it he was back wallowing in that black hole of misery he'd been living in for months.

"Hey Tara!" Dawn popped into the room and Tara managed a small smile; even with all the grief Dawn always managed to find some way to be… cheerful. Tara found herself envying that in a way.

"R-ready to go?" Tara's voice was low, still trying to keep her emotions quiet. Dawn nodded and grabbed her bag before hurrying out of the crypt, yelling something about running home to Janis'.

With a sigh, Tara turned to leave but felt a cool hand grip onto her arm roughly, stopping her in her tracks. Licking her lips Tara struggled to keep her voice in an even and low tone. "Leave me alone Spike. I'm not in the mood for you to play your game of 'how fast can I make her cry'."

Spike growled, feeling his anger rising until Tara turned and looked at him. His eyes met hers and he saw something familiar in them; pain and sadness hidden away by anger. It was easier to get angry then it was to be hurt. He couldn't help but wonder if she saw the same thing in his. It made him feel something else to see sadness and hurt in Tara's eyes and that feeling didn't sit well with him at all.

"Look, sorry about… I didn't say it to hurt you, I just wanted… needed… Bloody hell," he shouted angrily. "You're not the only person that's lost someone you know…" She pulled her arm away from his grasp and moved towards the door of the crypt.

Tara's eyes started to sting and she knew she was on the verge of tears again, but she didn't want it to be in front of Spike; she didn't want or need pity.

"Pining after Buffy doesn't count as actually being with her, Spike. Doesn't add up to what Willow and I had..." The look on his face got to her. He actually looked..._hurt_.

Regretting her words she bit her lip and looked at her toes, her voice low when she finally spoke. "I-I'm sorry. Spike. I..." Tara sighed and shook my head, heading towards the door.

Spike sighed and shook his head._'Why couldn't I just say something right for once in my sodding life?' _"Do you like kittens?" he blurted out, knowing that he was thinking was a bad idea, but what else could he do? The only other thing he had to offer was bourbon.

Tara stopped dead in her tracks and looked back at him. "K-kittens?" she murmured, eyeing him nervously wondering what he was leading too. If he was going to talk about torturing one Tara knew that her anger from last night would end up coming back.

Keeping herself guarded, she crossed her arms and looked at him, silently daring him to piss of a grieving Wicca. "Yes... Why?"

Spike paused and shifted on his heels, trying to think of the best way to word what he was about to say._'Oh sod it, I'd just leave the part about the kittens-as-the-main-course out.' _Clearing his throat he looked up at her finally. "Maybe you could use some company right now. Guy I know, couple of guys actually, uh… have… some kittens. Come out with me tomorrow night and I'll get you one, if you like."

For the first time in weeks, Tara found herself smiling. It was small, but it was a start. Her eyes moved over Spike to try and judge his intentions, trying to see if he was kidding or trying to be cruel in some sort of way. But when she looked at him and into his eyes she saw honesty and a bit of loneliness; maybe this was all about company and comfort.

After a small pause she found herself nodding quietly, knowing that they both couldn't wallow in the misery they were in and the company would be good for them both. Tara also realized that out of everyone, Spike was the one person that knew where she was coming from and he seemed to actually care how she felt; even if he had a slightly twisted way of showing it.

"S-sure. I'll go w-with you," Tara murmured quietly, her voice having a small nervous edge to it. She blushed slightly and looked down at her feet. "I'd like that."

"Right. Good." He looked at her, his eyes studying her like she was a piece of art. Watching as she held it together while everyone else fell apart around her. Plus he knew she could hold her own, she knew exactly where to aim to hurt someone the most. He smiled slightly, realizing she was special but hating that it took something like this for anyone to see. He didn't like even more that there wasn't anything anyone could do about it. But he wasn't one to dwell. "I'll come get you around 10 o'clock then. Oh yeah, better bring a couple of quid with you," he added. "I'm skint and these guys aren't going to give away anything for free." He chuckled and searched his pocket for his cigarettes. "Or at least not without a fight. Unless that's what you're looking for," Spike joked, raising an eyebrow at her. "Blow off a bit of steam, so to speak?"

Spike was rambling and Tara looked hesitant, guilt creeping up into her eyes. i 'Women. Had to take everything so seriously.' /i

Turning up the charm, he smiled at her. "Come on. Turn a few demons into toads? Be a right laugh, that." The way he grinned at her made Tara feel nervous, her mind starting to race with thoughts she shouldn't be having._No, it's not a date; you're seeing things that aren't there. Even if he was, Spike is nothing but a big flirt and that's how he talks; it's nothing more than that. Why on earth would Spike want to date me? He wouldn't. Not the point. This isn't a date, this is... something. This just is. That's it. It is. It's comfort, company. Well, they do say that misery loves company. So, I guess Spike's my company in all this, huh..._

Sighing, she looked back at him nervously, chewing on her lip in that nervous fashion she had. The idea of going out sounded good to her, the idea of trying to relax and forget… Willow.

Guilt rose up inside her again; feeling selfish for wanting that when they'd just buried Willow._She'd been gone a lot longer, Tara,_ /i she reminds herself. _Things were bad, things were headed in a bad place and nothing good would have come out of it. I know that it still doesn't help my guilt any. I still feel guilty about wanting to call it quits. I know I shouldn't, she loved the magic'smore then you anyway. No, she didn't. Yes, well maybe so but magic was more important to her lately, even you can't deny that. No... I can't._

"Ok, I'll go," she finally mustered, knowing that she needed a way out and couldn't keep drowning in all this grief. Tara shook her finger at him. "No making toads. If I accidentally turned you into one I'd have to go kissing frogs for a week." She teasingly made an ick face and turned to leave.

_'No, it's not a date; even with all Spike's flirting he knows that too. It's solace, it's 'misery loves company' and Spike and I are going to take that ride together. Nothing more.'_

Tara turned back at him from the door. "Thanks, I ne…" Her voice faltered, making her hate how bad she was with words. "Just, thanks..." She parted her lips to speak but a loud crack of thunder broke her thoughts. Glancing out the crypt door she saw it was starting to get darker, the scent of rain coming into the crypt and with one final nod at Spike she left.


	3. Chapter 3

"…_let 'em come try to stop me. It'll be fun." _

That was three months ago; he hasn't seen the fun side yet.

He growled low in his throat, his teeth clenched together, dragging his throbbing leg up the stairs to his third floor apartment. _Of all the times for the elevator to be broken…_

Lindsey hissed as his knee bent out of habit, the blood seeping past the shirt he tied around the pulsing wound on his thigh. "Fuck," he grit out, his eyes burning from the pain. He fumbled in his pocket for his keys, gripping onto them hard as he slipped it into the lock. Pushing the door open he slammed it hard behind him, leaning against the door and feeling his uninjured leg finally give out, landing him on the floor instantly.

Blood started to pool around him, soaking into his jeans and seeping into the cracks of the tile, running into the grout and making ribbons all around him.

"Fuck," he muttered again, biting his lip hard enough to break skin as he forced himself to his feet, using his good leg for support and gripping onto the edge of the table by the door. With a slow and painful effort, Lindsey made his way into the bathroom, sinking down hard onto the closed toilet seat.

He toed his shoe off with his good foot and struggled to pull his blood soaked sock off. It landed against the edge of the wall with a muted splatter. His hands blindly reached over on the counter for the surgical scissors he'd gotten duringone of the numerous times he landed in the hospital since he left LA.

With slow and deep breaths, Lindsey started to slowly cut away yet another pair of jeans just below his wound, taking care not to cut the makeshift tourniquet he'd made from his shirt. Swearing again through gritted teeth, Lindsey leaned over and turned on the water in the tub, putting it on as hot as he could take before closing his eyes to take a deep breath.

He held one end of his shirt and started to cut away at the material, the blood from his wound dripping onto the floor faster as the bandage was cut away. Lindsey's head spun from the blood loss and he could hear the blood hit the floor even louder than the water in the tub.

"Have to give them points for… _fucking hell_… persistence," he gritted out through clenched teeth as he saw the full damage the Voynok Demon had given him. He should have known to get the hell out of there when he saw it. Lindsey knew they had nine lives to go along with those sharp spines. His time at Wolfram & Hart should have taught him that much… but apparently he never seemed to listen to the lessons he learned.

With painfully slow movements he grabbed the bottle of peroxide and moved himself closer to the tub, moving his leg over the edge and hissing as his foot burned from the unavoidable heat. He reached over and took a cup from the edge and started to slowly pour the water over the wound, wincing as part of his skin waved against the stream of near scalding water.

Lindsey cleaned the wound for nearly a half an hour, the water in the tub turning a gross shade of pink, bits of his torn jeans and blood floating in the water. He just shook his head when he saw the tip of the Voynok claw fall to the bottom of the water.

Gripping his thigh tightly he poured the peroxide over the wound. "Fuck!" His eyes rolled back along with his head from the pain. Squeezing his eyes closed tightly, he hissed and started counting to ten before looking back down and pouring another wave of the liquid over his flesh.

With his jaw clenched he reached over for the small kit he kept on top of the toilet tank and with movements he knows all to well by now, Lindsey starts to stitch himself up. Slow and deliberate stitching, using his other hand to shakily pour more peroxide onto the wound. The last thing he needed was an infection on top of the firm hunting him like some rabid animal.

He knew taking a stand and sticking to it this time would have some serious repercussions. He'd worked for the firm for years and knewmore inner workings than anyone living.

Lindsey felt that he had to stop, swallowing hard and taking slow breaths as the wound throbbedwith the pounding of his heart, his mind going back to the past year, images of everything that happened flashing in his mind. Holland, Angel, Darla, Lilah, Angel, Darla, Drusilla, Angel refusing to help Darla, Angel fucking Darla, Holland's constant lies…

None of it was new to him. He just couldn't help but wonder why he put up with so much for so long. Hindsight is twenty-twenty but he knew that the second Darla woke he could have gotten someone to shove a soul into her and he could have drug her away from L.A… away from _him_.

Angel, Angel, Angel…

It all came down to Angel. Everything was that self-righteous vampire's fault, thinking he was better than everyone and doing his best to knock Lindsey down a peg – or five – at every turn. Cutting off his hand without a second thought; undermining him and making him realize that everything he hadbeen doing wasfor all the wrong reasons.

Before Angel came blowing through L.A.Lindsey could live in his blissful ignorance, he could ignore his conscience long enough to get the task done. It's kind of hard to do that when it's shoved in your face at every turn, every mistake a painful reminder of what was wrong.

Pulling himself out of his thoughts, Lindsey started to finish stitching up the gash in his leg, noticing he lost count after fifteen strokes of the needle through his flesh. This one wasbad, but he'd had worse, the scar along his side – just under his lungs – the winner by far. That one he needed to go to the hospital for. It was easy to lie about how he got it. He'd been lying to himself for years.

With a sigh of relief, Lindsey tied the thread up and set the needle down, leaning back against the back of the toilet as he tried to get the room to stop spinning. He knew he had to eat and he had to change. What was left of his jeans was soaked with his blood and the smell was making his stomach turn.

Clenching his teeth, Lindsey started the painful task of getting the remnants of his jeans off, deciding it would be easier to cut them from his waist then to try and pull them off.

They soon lay on the floor, soaking up some of the blood and pink bath water from the tiles. Reaching up he grabbed the towel from the rack and wrapped it around his waist; he tucked the tail end in and sighed heavily, the throbbing in his thigh becoming even more than before.

He reached over and picked up the gauze and tape, using now expert movements to bandage his thigh up before flexing his calf muscle inspite of the pain. He still had feeling and that was a good thing, he knew the demon missed any major nerves or veins.

"Okay, it's not far to the kitchen," he told himself, biting his bloody lip and using the towel rack to help lift himself up. Lindsey gripped onto everything he could on his way to the small kitchenette on the other side of the apartment. This was his third apartment since he left the firm. They always found him and he picked up the second he was healed enough to move and got the hell out of town.

The temptation to go home – back to Oklahoma – ate and tempted him, but he knew better. He couldn't risk them tracking him down there and hurting what little bit of family he had left. That was a risk he wasn't willing to take, he needed to find a way to hide from the firm, and he couldn't keep running like some scared rabbit. That's what they wanted and he was tired of doing what they wanted.

He was long overdue to do something he wanted and on his terms.

"_Don't let them make you play their game, make them play yours." He was tired but he didn't feel defeated, he felt free. The idea of nothing but the open road ahead of him and expensive suits behind making him feel… he felt, that's all that mattered to him right now._

"_I'll keep that in mind. Lindsey?" Angel paused, looking Lindsey square in the eyes. "Don't come back." It wasn't a suggestion; it was a demand, a silent order and instruction never to come back to L.A._

"_You can have this place. I don't want it anymore," he replied, a forlorn smile coming to his lips. "All that glitters isn't gold in this town." With a nod Lindsey hopped up in his truck and started her up. _

_Lola purred – if you considered the very obvious sound that the muffler needed to be replaced purring – and Lindsey patted the dash. "C'mon baby, let's get out of this death trap."_

_Shifting gears, Lindsey headed away, glancing in the rearview, he knew Angel was watching him even if he couldn't see him in the mirror._

_Leaving L.A. meant his freedom and that far surpassed any regret when it came to Angel. But it didn'tstop Lindsey from wondering what could have happened if he hadn't taken the promotion that Holland offered him last year._

_He snorted at the idea, the mental image of him and Angel working side by side for the greater good of man. They were like oil and water together, or kerosene; they were too much alike to make a difference, they were too different to work together. It would have never worked and more harm than good would have come out of the union._

_Lindsey would have never lost his hand, he would have never aided in the project to bring Darla back…_

_That was one thing Lindsey regretted in the same breath as he didn't. He hated what the firm put Darla through, that they only brought her back with the pure intention of having Angel turn her. She was reborn only to die and that was a thought he couldn't stomach. He was glad he was at the firm, in spite of all of the things he did after he chose to stay, because he was able to be there for Darla, take her in as much as she would let him and do whatever he could for her…_

_He never expected for things to happen how they did – any of it – he wasn't prepared, although he always prided himself on being prepared. He wasn't prepared for her manipulation, the firm's intentions or his feelings…_

_Nobody plans for the life he had, andthat's why things weregoing to change. On his terms._

Lindsey finally made his way into the kitchen, hitting the light switch hard with his blood crusted hand, blinking as the harsh light just made his vision spin even more.He made his way over to the refrigerator, sitting down in the chair placed there and pulling the door open.

It wasn't filled with the 'normal' bachelor items – beer, left over takeout – it was filled with things Lindsey knew he needed to survive. Various medical supplies lined the shelves, everything he would need to build his system back up and treat almost any wound to keep him from going in the hospital. There were a few stray bottles of beer left; but they were the last thing he needed right now.

This was almost a routine for him at this point. It was a different apartment every timebut it was the same agony from a fight when he was found, always a narrow escape before it was too late. It was almost like he was supposed to be tortured, tormented and bruised hard and long enough for him to go back to the firm like he was positive the Senior Partners wanted.

Every time he got to a new place, he unpacked his truck and set up the apartment for a fight, weapons hidden in various places – there was one taped to the underside of a lampshade and another was even attached with a magnet to the fridge – he was always ready. He had to be. Ever since he stole those files when he helped Angel, Lindsey knew he had to be ready for anything at any moment.

He'dgrown accustom to the paranoia… it was the only thing he'd been able to count on since he left L.A.

Lindsey's vision spun even as he pulled out one of the already filled needles and jabbed it into his good thigh, filling his veins with a mixture of painkillers and antibiotics that would kick his immune system into gear.

He leaned his head on the counter and pulled out a high energy drink and proceeded to drink it slowly, knowing the sugar was rising in his system just enough to clear his vision so he could get to work.

Groaning, he stood and headed to the table with his books and laptop. Taking a deep breath he sat down and did his best to stop the shaking of his hands as he turned on the laptop, knowing somewhere in his mind that he had to have some sort of answers in these stolen files.

He knew more than anyone at Wolfram and Hart, he just needed to find out exactly where to look…


	4. Chapter 4

As Spike neared the Summers' digs –_God, can't even bloody call it that anymore_- everything inside him screamed that he'd made a big mistake by asking Tara out with him tonight. He couldn't even remember what the bloody hell he'd been thinking when he invited her! Was he pissed? No, he didn't even have that bloody excuse. Even if you ignored the fact that he didn't usually spend his nights dragging human girls anywhere - unless you counted alleyways, but then again, he didn't even do _that_anymore - let alone seedy demon bars, why the hell would he offer to take her to Kitten poker, of all things? He couldn't have just gotten her a kitten? Brought it over in a sodding basket or something? Oh no, that'd be too easy, wouldn't it?

"Fuck," he muttered bitterly, taking one last drag off his cigarette and throwing the butt into a nearby garden.

He walked slowly up the stairs, knocked, waited and fought the urge to just fuck off when she didn't answer after all of two seconds. Why was he here? To make himself feel better? Or worse, to make her feel better? Bloody hell, he should be wanting to eat her eyeballs not make her feel better. The sodding chip had a lot to answer for.

Then the door opened and she was standing there…and she looked…she looked good. Really good.

"Hey," she said. She seemed happy.

_All right, now don't act like a git and bollocks this up just because you feel insecure,_his mind warned. _Maybe I want to fuck it up,_he thought and before he knew it he was as the git inside reared it's decidedly ugly head.

"Hope you've got some cash on you. Not really any point going if you don't and it's not like this is a date, so don't expect me to pick up the check."

"Yes, I w-w-wouldn't expect anything less from you, S-spike. After all picking up the check w-would make you nice. Then people'd say you'd gone all soft. Oh no, w-we can't have t-that."

Oh, so a smartarse act tonight, was it? Interesting. He was however, a might pissed off at her words, although it was mostly because part of him knew he deserved them, he was just being a git because he was starting to like her. What was so wrong with that anyway? She was pretty, funny and…Oh bloody hell! He was evil! He didn't like her; all he was doing was trying to forget about Bu--.

No, he wasn't even going to think that name tonight. Fuck. Spike busied himself with watching Tara as she locked the door and turned to him, ready to go on their little outing.

"Lead the way," she said, and he could have sworn that she seemed excited about all this. God, if that was the case the bird really needed to get out more.

"Well, I am evil, love," he said hastily, following her down the stairs and pushing all thoughts of Buffy from his mind. "Just 'cos the demon's been muzzled," he reminded her, tapping his temple. "Doesn't mean it isn't still there, thinking nasty thoughts…" Spike trailed off as she scowled.

"Oh yes, really evil. Helping Dawnie with her homework. That's... sinister," she laughed. Bint just wouldn't let up with bleeding smartarse comments now. "Yes, but then again I'm afraid to know w-what's in that mind of your Spike. I bet it makes the Hollywood strip look like kindergarten."

Nearly enough to piss a bloke off.

"'Sides," he went on, changing the subject. "Bloke should never pick up the tab on the first date. You know, girl'll be expecting kittens every week then."

Fuck. For the life of him, he couldn't nut out why he even joked about the fact that it was a date? It wasn't one. In fact he had no idea what this was. No wait, yes he did, this was William coming to the surface. Soft, pathetic, annoying, sodding William who couldn't stand to see a lady in pain, who couldn't…God this chip, he was ready to rip it out of his head with his bare hands it was causing him so much grief.

After Dru sired him, he never once looked back, never once returned to acting like the ponce he was when he was human. She saved him, which was something he'd always known. But this chip…first Buffy, telling her he loved her and now Tara; trying to make her feel better with little furry animals. He'd never been closer to what he was when he was human. Even Dru knew it; she could smell it on him when she came back last year, hell, she saw what a lost cause he was, it was why she left, wasn't it?

"Oh, so I guess then we're going Dutch," she joked. But Spike was happy with that, he just thanked bloody god she was taking as a joke. "Should I b-buy you your blood and beers? Ok, I'll pay and we'll go to where you want and next I get to pick the activity."

Hmm, bloke could take advantage of that little offer.

"Game?" she asked, arching her bow at Spike and he grinned a little when he saw it. She knew how to keep a bloke on his toes, alright. Hell, just as long as she didn't think it was a date. Although, it sorta sounded like she did…think it was a date that is. That in itself didn't seem right, at least to Spike, as far as he knew she was s'posed to be into the fairer sex and all that.

He'd have to ask her about that later.

"I'm game for anything, love," Spike replied, licking his lips and starting to think that this little outing of their might be more fun than he'd figured it to be. "Question is, are you?"

"I'm game. I've lost everything, Spike, I've nothing left to lose," she said. Her voice was low and totally devoid of any emotion before walking past him into the bar._Looked like we had something in common then_ Spike thought and followed her into the bar.

"Got a pretty good idea what that's like," he mumbled, leaning on the bar and pretending to study the bottles of booze behind it. "I know it wasn't the same, like you said, but it was something. To me anyway."

But he'd already promised himself that he wasn't gong to get into that bloody topic of conversation.

"So, want a beer?" he asked, smirking slightly "Girl like you'll be right with a bottle I'd wager."

"Amaretto Sour," she said, giving Spike a look full of contempt. He still thought it was funny, though, of course not as funny as her choice of bloody beverage.

"Bloody hell, Harmony used to drink that…fruity crap," he said with disgust. 'Course, he thought smirking, maybe that's what her type liked. Hmm, maybe he should lay off the little barbs about her… orientation and whatnot for a while.

Oh what the hell, just one more.

"Would've thought you'd drink like a man. Or is it the other way 'round, do you prefer it if they drink like men?" But before she could answer Spike gestured to the barman. "Give us a beer and an… Amaretto sour thanks, mate." He nodded to Tara, "On her."

She looked pissed as hell. Just what he liked to see.

"You know, Spike, I drink what I drink, I like what I like." She leaned in close to him and grabbed his crotch painfully tight; he uttered a shocked gasp, but for some bloody reason couldn't seem to move any further. What the bloody hell? "And these," she said, smirking and leaning in close so that her lips brushed Spike's ear. "I like these, too."

And then she was gone, buggering off to sit at a table and leaving Spike standing, gob smacked at the bar.

"Little fireball you got there, pal," the barman offered with a smirk.

"Oh, your powers of observation are stunning, mate," he said sarcastically, taking an unneeded breath and trying to calm down before he followed her. Spike had to give it to her, though; she had some damn big stones, acting all tough and whatnot, but that's all it was, an act. He could tell an act like that a bleedin' mile away, vampires always could. It was the way theyworked, see, if you smelled fear you knew you had yourself a ripe little victim and as she walked he could smell it all over her. Oh, she hid it well, but it was there.

Scared shitless and still she stood up to him. He was really beginning to like this girl.

He laid his last fifty on the bar and gestured to the barman. "Bottle of tequila, don't bother with the glasses." He picked up his purchase and headed into the back.

_Let's see how tough she was after spending the night nursing this baby._

Tara was leaning against the door frame, waiting for her body to stop shaking slightly and she wondered what possessed her to talk like that to Spike. "What took you so long?" She smirked as she covered up her nerves, she waited for him to go ahead of her, following him like a good little girl. He kinda liked that. S'pose introductions were in order.

"Tara," he said, getting her attention. "This is Clem, and..."

"Mort," the ugly bastard sitting next to Clem grumbled.

"Mort," Spike repeated, looking at him and raising an eyebrow. "Clem, Mort; Tara," he said gesturing to Tara and pulled a chair out from under the table for Tara before taking seat at the table himself. "Enough of the chitchat, let's play."

But no sooner had his ass hit the chair, they started bickering over antes; Spike took the opportunity to have a word in the Witch's ear. "Got this for you, pet," he said with a smirk, putting the bottle down in front of her. "Seeing as how you're serious about tonight and all. Word of warning though; these guys are good. So don't get cocky," he said, looking her up and down with a smirk. "…er"

She gave Spike a look before taking a swig. He had to give it to her, he thought, watching as she made a disgusted face, she really wasn't some boring shrinking violet. He'd always thought she would be, and maybe there'd been times when that'd been her thing, but right now…well, she was starting to look like one hell of a woman to Spike.

"Hmmm. So Spike, these cards are all Ace's. Does that mean they count as ones?" Tara smiled sweetly at him, the taste of the tequila still burning in her mouth. She kept quiet that she knew more than enough about poker, she learned from watching her father all those years back home. Spike didn't need to know that, he seemed to enjoy that she was learning from him.

"Ah, pet," he said smiling through gritted teeth, "Shut the bloody hell up and don't tell the other players what my cards are." He slid his chair away from her and muttered. "Or I'll bloody disembowel you."

"No you won't. You like me; I'm fun to be around," she murmured softly, giving him a winning smile even though everything felt like it was falling apart inside.

Spike scowled at her and settled into the game, and as things progressed and Tara hustled the living fuck out of each and every one of them, things just got more and more interesting.

As the night progressed Tara got more and more drunk, but as far as Spike was concerned, that was a bit of a plus. He couldn't even be madat her, not when she'd done such a good job of robbing them all of everything they'd brought to the table.

Of course, then things started to get a might ugly. Well, uglier as far as Spike was concerned.

"The girl. She cheats!" piped up Mort, hauling his ugly carcass off his seat and shaking the table.

"Hey hang on a minute, mate," Spike said, standing himself and looking him in the eye… literally, because there was just one huge big green one in the middle of his forehead. Bloody hell what an ugly sod. "That's no way to treat a lady," he continued calmly. "Especially one that just beat you fair and square."

Without saying anything else, Spike started loading kittens into the basket, squirmy little buggers didn't want to go in but they had to be quick, the natives were getting restless. "Think it might be time to quit while we're ahead, love," Spike said to Tara, eyeing Mort.

But Tara was a might distracted. "Kittens!" She said, clearly outraged, seeing the kittens for the first time. Well what did she think they played for? Bloody pennies?

"You're not goin anywhere with them," Mort snorted, moving to stand over Tara like he was the big bad demon of the hour. Stupid sod, Tara could've been Spike's girl for all he knew... not that she was, yeah, in which case the ugly sod could say whatever the hell he wanted to her.

"Do you really want to mess with a witch?" she said, arching a cocky brow and standing her ground. This should be good.

"Wouldn't give her an excuse, Mort old pal," Spike added, smirking. "She's been looking to turn some unsuspecting half-wit into a toad for a couple of days now." Spike stood back and crossed my arms, looking at Tara. "Go on, love," he said, grinning. "Give him what for."

"I w-will not t-turn him into a toad. I think we should go," her voice was low and she felt her nerves spike even higher.

"Gonna back down I see…" Spike started before he knew what she was doing. Tara started giggling like the girl she was and hauling him outside. He hardly had time to grab the bottle of booze before the two of them were out the back door with a basket full of kittens and an angry demon with a grudge against them left inside.

"Guess you really can turn a kitten into a tiger," she said, but really all Spike was thinking about at that moment was Tara's warm fingers wrapped around his hand. He looked down at it; her hand clutching his. She was so warm…

Oh, bloody hell, you could tell he hadn't gotten any for a long time if he was obsessing over how warm some girl he barely knew was…but she was...

Cute too, in a tough kinda way…but sweet like… Oh bugger this. There was no i way /i he was going down this road again. No. Way.

Spike pulled his hand out of her grip and stopped dead in their tracks. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he spat angrily, "Pulling a bloke away from a fight like that? Want them to think I'm some sort of bloody poof I s'pose." Spike took a gulp from the bottle and tried not to think about how warm the patch of skin where her shoulder met her neck would be. "I was hoping for a good fight, blow off some steam, y'know? Can't fight anything but demons these days."

"Fine, go back in there. I'm sure the tiger would love to get a nice piece of Spike," Tara replied smirking slightly and now Spike was completely bloody confused! What the hell was all this about? He thought, eyeing her suspiciously as she tossed her hair over her shoulder and started moving in on him, backing him against the nearby alley wall. Okay, what the--?

"What? D-do I have something on my neck?" she said, her voice low as she licked her lips and looked up at him.

"I bet it's been a while, huh?" she breathed, leaning in close, so close that Spike could smell her and hear her blood pumping through her veins and suddenly all he could do was stare at her throat and….

"Maybe someday I'll be brave enough to do body shots...you could lick the salt off my neck"

Spike felt his cock hardening. She wanted it, he could take whatever he wanted from her and the chip probably wouldn't even so much as spark. He felt his nostrils flare and something shadowy and carnal, a feeling that'd been so long denied, to him twisted in his stomach. He watched closely as she took a mouthful of tequila and spilt the majority of it down her front.

"Oops…" She giggled and started to back away, but that was it, between Spike's throbbing cock and the smell of her…and God all he could do was watch as that droplet of tequila traced the lush curve of her cleavage.His resolve snapping, he grabbed her shoulders and pushed her against the wall, pressing his body against hers and inhaling the sweet scent of her hair.

Bloody hell…

"You've already had your hands on my body, little girl," he whispered, his lips moving softly against Tara's ear, her heart pounding loudly. "Without permission I might add. You know, a lesser man would take advantage of you in this situation. Get his own back, so to speak."

Spike leaned back, tilting his head and peering at her eyes. She was off her face, didn't have a clue what she was doing. Part of him wanted to rip her panties off right there in the alleyway and sink every part of himself into her, but a bigger part of him - the part that seemed to get more insistent everyday – knew it would be wrong. Not this girl.

"But this isn't what you want," he said softly, taking another step back and away from her. "Or you certainly won't in the morning. I can see it now, you'll tell droopy boy and he'll come after me and who needs that kind of hassle? Nah, think its best I take you home, pet," he finished, walking towards the exit of the alleyway before turning and adding. "We can have a rematch, if you like. Winner gets to do a body shot off the loser," he smirked, turns out he just couldn't resist and thoughts of exactly where he's sprinkle that salt flooded his mind. "If you're still in the mood that is."

"Thanks," Spike heard her mumble as she came up behind him, following along like a good little puppy. "For tonight, I had fun. Oh, and I wouldn't tell anyone about anything with us. I like it like that," she smiled, gripping his forearm for support to keep herself from tripping over her own feet.


	5. Chapter 5

_Later that night…_

Spike had nothing. Absolutely bloody nothing. Looking at his cards and then up at Tara, he realised why he was losing as badly as he was. Her face was schooled into a blank, cold expression and she stared back at him, unmoving…_god, did the bint have any tells at all? Bloody hell._

Still hadn't asked her where she learned to play so well.

Truth be told, there were a lot of things he hadn't asked her but he still wanted to, say for instance, what the hell was she going to do with all those damn kittens and could she actually turn anything into anything or was it all just a big act? Also there was the little question of what the fuck all that playacting in the alleyway earlier tonight was all about. Yeah, they'd definitely have to get into that one of these days. Soon.

Spike glanced down at his cards again, but he wasn't seeing them. Oh no, all he seemed to be able to see since they'd gotten back there from that sodding dive was the way her eyes looked in the alleyway as she backed away from him. God, it would have been easy to have her right there…just take what ever he wanted from her, 'cause she was willing to give it, and ready; he could see it in her eyes.

But that was the thing, see, her eyes; there was more in them than just lust, there was abandon, too, the kind the desperate get when they think there's nowhere else to go, when they think they've hit bottom and it won't hurt if they fall just a little bit further. But the truth was that there was always further to go, and for some reason the closer you got to the bottom the more it bloody hurt when you fell.

But she was young and she didn't have any idea how low she could go, you never did 'til you got there and for some damn reason at that moment in the alley, when she was spread out in front of him like a bloody all-you-can-eat buffet, he couldn't bear to be the one that showed her. It must have been the fucking chip because instead of the images of her wriggling and sobbing beneath him while he put it to her tantalising him, they burned, hurt. Oh, they made his cock twitch with need all the same, but at the same time they made his gut twist with disgust.

Spike just couldn't do it to her.

_Fucking chip._

You know, they called him evil, but those Initiative poofs were sure running a close second. Could have at least done something about the cravings when they put the chip in 'cause having this bit of plastic in his brain certainly didn't mean he could stop seeing that glistening trail of sweet liquid painting her skin. Bloody hell, it would have been so easy to just take her right there, lick up the alcohol and just keep going, past her breasts and belly until he had his face buried…

"Spike?"

"What?" he said guiltily, looking up at her; startled. "I mean, what…what's up, pet?" He said, trying to be more casual this time.

God, he needed another drink.

Suddenly that poker face fell away, and she looked really down.

"T-thought you'd w-want this..." she said, handing him the bottle of booze, only a little left, too. Well, they'd been at it for a while. Don't know why she looked so bloody sad all of a sudden, kinda annoying, thought they were having a good time. Maybe she was a sad drunk? Or maybe it was 'cause her girlfriend's funeral was this week, you dozy bastard! He grimaced slightly at his own stupidity. Bloody hell, he really was a wanker.

"Cheers," Spike said, gulping down the last bit. "Hey, all gone," he said, waving the bottle at her. "I take back what I said before; you do bloody drink like a man."

_Can't help being a bastard son of a bitch, can you Spike_ he thought to himself.

"So," he said, trying to perk her up. "What you gonna do with all these bloody felines then? Start a little army of familiars; make 'em do your witchy bidding?"

"Well, I could just keep them all and get an early s-start on being the cr-crazy cat lady everyone figures I'll end up." There was a sad tone to her voice, then again it seemed to live there now. "You can take them to the shelter for me." She nodded. "Actually, you're t-taking me. That's it. No discussion." He looked at her and she grinned, picking up the kitten and whispering something in its ear.

"Shelter's open after dark are they then?" He asked, as the kitten started climbing up his leg; Tara looked amused so he let it go, nice to see her smile really. 'Course then it decided to attach itself to his bloody neck, and that was the last straw. Who was the vampire here anyway?

"They can always do the things I won't," she said, as it licked away at him._What did she mean by that, then,_ he thought, smirking.

"Oh yeah…Oi!" Spike said, pulling the cat off his neck by the scruff of its neck. At the last minute it decided to latch on with its claws. "Ow," he grumbled, plonking the cat unceremoniously on the floor and touching his neck. Hand came away bloody, and he licked off the blood while eyeing Tara.

"Yeah, I'll help you take the little rats to a shelter," he said, angrily. "Bloody things." Then as an afterthought, he added; "Maybe we should keep one around, you know for the nibblet. New pet might help keep her mind off Buf—"

As soon as the first syllable left Spike's lips the memories started to come back. He decided that he needed another drink, and bloody fast too.

"You got any booze hidden around here?" God, he bloody well hoped she had. This was his un-life now, booze the night away so he didn't think of Buffy and then sleep the day away, running from dreams of her, dreams where he couldn't save her again, and again…dreams where he almost saved her…they were the worst…

"Ummm...Ohh!" She sat up and crawled over towards Spike. "I think there's something in here." She leaned over him, almost crawling over his lap and I reached into one of the side tables and pulled out a bottle of JD.

Spike was thankfully wrenched from that train of thought as Tara draped herself across his lap, like a big bloody cat, no less. He must've been pissed 'cos before he knew it his fingers were reaching out to pet her hair. Thankfully she was up and holding a bottle towards me before his fingers made contact.

"How's this?"

Spike reached out and took the bottle, unscrewing the cap and taking a drink…and another…

"What's wrong?" she asked and he just looked at her for a minute - maybe it was more than a minute, couldn't be sure the state he was in – and she looked back, waiting for an answer, as if she actually wanted to know. Heh, yeah right, sure she'd love a peek at what was going on in his head.

"I dunno why I'm still here," Spike slurred. "I should go away, find myself … somewhere …somewhere she's not."

He took another swig and stood up, knocking into the table. Fuck.

"She won't even leave me alone now she's bloody dead!" he yelled, kicking the chair, and then more softly, he added, "I can't stand it."

"Y-you can't go..." He heard Tara say through his alcohol induced haze. "I-I need you here...I can't do this without you...you've been the only thing keeping me together the past week. You're not alone..."

She just kept saying it…

"You aren't alone."

…and touching his cheek as if he wasn't some sort of monster…treating him like he_mattered._

She was so warm.

He reached up and curled his fingers around her hand, pulling it away from his face. Turning it over in his in my hand he studied it, running his thumb over the warm skin over her palm, following the lines etched there. Spike ran his nail down the middle one, the lifeline - remembered Dru telling him once that's what it was called - and wondered how long Buffy's was…Tara's looked the same as his…

"'spose you're right," he muttered, staring at his fingers as they rubbed over her soft, creamy skin and he wondered for a sec if they felt as cold on her skin as hers did warm against his. "Guess we're in the same boat here…even though it's not the same…but it feels like it is."

"No..." she murmured softly. "It's the same boat...I-I'm tired of floating alone..." she looked "I'm tired of alone...aren't you?"

Spike looked up from her hands as she spoke. Wasn't fair, he deserved everything he got; he was a monster; death followed him 'round like a shroud. But Buffy? So what if she was the Slayer and so what if Red was in on the action…why did that mean they deserved death?

And Tara; what the bloody hell'd she ever do to anyone? He bloody hated all this feeling! Times were he would have thought this whole thing was funny, grief used to be an aphrodisiac, a high, but now…

Spike looked into her eyes. All of her bloody front, all that toughness was gone, stripped away and now all he could see was how fragile she really was, just like Buffy was…in the end.

Before he knew it the fingers of his other hand were brushing a stray hair from her face and running softly over her cheek. She'd been biting her lip and they were impossibly red. He chuckled inwardly, guess she did have some tells after all. So red…bet they'd be warm

…and sweet.

"I am…" he murmured, answering her earlier question simply, before trailing off and cupping her cheek in his palm. Suddenly he was leaning towards her, then a moment later the world went away and all he could feel were her lips on his. He could taste the alcohol on her lips.

Her lips moved against his and they were warm and soft and sweet and everything that they should be, that he thought they'd be.

As Spike felt her hands on his back, pulling him close he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. God, she was so warm, and she tasted so good. He could hear her heart thundering in her chest and...

What the bloody hell was he doing?

He didn't know, and somehow, he didn't care, hell, he couldn't even remember the last time he'd felt so wrapped up in somebody, so...

Buffy.

He slid a hand into her hair and nudged at her lips with his tongue, all he wanted to do was get lost in her and forget everything else. i Everyone /i else, but before he knew it she was pulling back.

"Spike..." she said, and Spike opened his eyes to look down on her. "W-will you stay...here...tonight?"

What the…?

"N-not like that...but..."

He tried not to smirk when a faint blush stained her cheeks.

"D-dawnie's not here...I-I... I don't want to be alone...the bed's so..."

Spike's grin got wider.

"N-not like that!" Tara blushed hard. "...but..."

Spike knew what he was supposed to do, in theory at least. Yeah, in theory he was supposed to be chivalrous and respectfully decline and all that. 'Course, it'd be nice if someone'd tell him how the bloody hell he was supposed to do that when he could feel her breasts pushing against his chest, when he could smell her. She was so warm. What the hell were his choices anyway? Go back to his crypt and if he was lucky, down enough whiskey to pass out, or stay here and sleep curled up with a beautiful girl.

Beautiful? Well, yeah.

"All right," he said softly, running my knuckles over her cheek. "I'll stay."

"You will?"

Spike nodded and she kissed his cheek and smiled at him like he was some sort of prince bloody charming for saying he'd stay. Like he was doing her a favour, or something, really it was her doing one for him. Didn't want to disappoint the bird but...well, he would in the end wouldn't he? But maybe he'd just deal with that in the morning.

She didn't move and she looked a might nervous, probably thinking she'd made a mistake asking a vicious demon to share her bed. But he was set on the idea now and he didn't want her changing her mind.

"Can't sleep standing up, can we, pet?" he said ducking his head and turning. Spike tugged on her hand gently and started walking towards the stairs.

Passing Buffy's room was definitely not a barrel of laughs for Spike, that's for sure, but she kept on walking and all he had to do was follow. So he did. Soon as they reached her bedroom she went off to the little girl's room to do…whatever the hell it was that women did in there. 121 years old and Spike still hadn't figured that one out.

He looked around, taking stock of the room and its contents; pretty bloody girlie…magic stuff everywhere, some of the stuff didn't look like it belonged to Tara, though, probably Red's. i No, definitely Red's /i , he thought picking up a fluffy red…thing…top or something. Was it possible that women's clothes had gotten more complicated? Then he remembered corsets, god they were a bugger to get off…

Spike walked over to the bed and sat down; taking off his boots would have to do, not like there was anything here for him to sleep in…and he didn't think she'd take kindly to the way he usually slept. He grinned to himself, maybe he should just treat this as a normal night and sleep in what he usually sleep in? Christ, he'd love to see the look on her face when she came out and he was--

But Spike's thoughts were interrupted when out she came, dressed in…bloody hell, bird had some legs on her…and then suddenly she waskissing him again. Spike wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her into his lap, getting lost in her again and before he could help himself, his hand slid down her hip and stroked her bare thigh.

She pulled back and looked at him, running her hands over his face without a care in the world. Didn't seem too worried about where his hands were either, come to think of it.

Her eyes were still glazed over and Spike could see she was still drunk, but he, on the other hand, was sobering up. Vampire constitution had its benefits, but it also had its drawbacks, the biggest one at the moment being that the world was becoming clearer. What was also become crystal clear was that it would be bloody easy for him to take advantage of this situation. Yeah, he was sobering up, but he wasn't exactly thinking straight. Having a beautiful, scantily clad girl in your lap tends to making thinking a might hard.

Spike's mouth was watering and his cock was hardening, God, it'd be so easy to just...

But he couldn't, she wasn't just some cheap slapper he'd picked up in some bar, she was more. He'd earned respect for the bird tonight, that wasn't something he had for many of the girls he met. Certainly didn't have it for any of the girls he took home for a quick shag, and that's what this would be…wasn't as if she was going to turn over in the morning and ask him to set up house with her.

"Pet," he said softly, reluctantly taking his hands off her body. "You want me here to keep you company, fair enough. But anything else..."

"S-sorry..." She slid off Spike's lap, looking and sounding embarrassed. He didn't want to hurt the girl, but it was better this way, didn't want her waking up in the morning with more regrets than were necessary.

As she sat down at the dresser and started brushing her hair – another thing Spike'd never figured out the point of. Why bother if it was just going to get all messed up anyway? – he adjusted himself discreetly, wouldn't do to have her seeing that, after all his show of being the gentleman. "I-I'm sorry I don't h-have anything to give you to wear..." shesaid before getting into the bed, and then as if reading his thoughts, jumped up to close the blinds. "Thank you. I j-just...The idea of sleeping alone..."

"Doesn't appeal to me much either, kitten, that's for bloody sure," Spike said softly, pulling back the covers and sliding into the bed with her.

"You getting in or am I sleeping alone after all?"

Slowly, she climbed into bed beside him.

"Awww, snuggles," she giggled and looked up at him as one of the kittens made its way up onto the bed.

Bloody cats…

"So I take it you're not going to take me to poker night again anytime soon huh?"

Spike picked up the cat and dumped it on the floor, before rolling over and wrapping his arms around Tara, pulling her against him. "Tell you what," he began, brushing his lips against her neck and kissing her throat right at the pulse point. Spike could feel all that hot blood pumping away under the surface but he couldn't smell a whiff of fear from her…wonder why? Guess she thought he was neutered like some bloody animal, with this chip. Then again, wonder why the sodding thing hadn't gone off? Maybe it was 'cos he wasn't feeling any urge to bit her. Just kiss her, really.

"I'll help you take these sodding rodents to a shelter," he continued, stroking his hands up and down her back. "And then you and me are gonna play a proper game of poker. Sober," he said, burying his face in the crook of her neck. God, she smelled good. "See who bloody wins then," he muttered, wrapping his arms tighter around her.

This was definitely better than going back to the crypt. Who the hell cared what she thought in the morning, as long as she didn't decide to stake him of course.

"You've got a deal. I'll still beat you," she murmured confidently as she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her body against his. "I've been playing for a while. Saw my father play many times."

Yeah, but seeing wasn't doing. Besides Spike'd met the wanker she called her father…can't imagine he'd be much of a player. Poker took brains.

"Surprised you today, huh? Bet you didn't think Glinda had it in her," she teased, revealing that she knew his nickname for her; if you'd call it one.

"Wouldn't be too sure about that pet," Spike said, grinning. "Maybe you watched Daddy dearest play a few times but I've been playing for over a hundred years. Also, I'm evil, means I've got a great poker face. No emotions see," he said softer.God, how he wished that were true, be a hell of a lot easier.

"No emotions? Spike. You've got more emotion, feeling and caring then people I know. You're more of a man then my mortal soulled father. Don't worry. I won't tell," she said, as she snuggled up against him.

"Think you might be right there, pet," he said, smiling sheepishly. But he couldn't help being a bit pissed. What the hell did she know about him? She had no idea how he felt…and that was the point, he didn't feel. He wasn't soft, he was just temporarily out of commission, but the big bad would be back! Bugger Buffy, bugger Dawn, he wasn't up to being what they wanted. He moved to turn away from her. Bugger her too…he didn't have emotions he was…a killer…Buffy knew that and…

"Don't worry. I won't tell anyone that you're not all big and grr anymore. At least you don't have cold toes."

Right, he needed to get the bloody hell out of here; this girl didn't know what the hell she was talking about. He wasn't bad any more? He'd bloody show her who wasn't bloody bad anymore

"Why do you do that? Pretend you don't care and you don't have emotions? You're a really good person Spike. Least I've always thought that. You're so great with Dawnie and you helped me so much in the summer," she mumbled sleepily.

_That's it_ He jumped out of bed and paced to the other side of the room, trying to get as far away from her as possible. But why wouldn't he leave? Why wouldn't he tell her to toss off and just stop with the jibes about all his sodding emotions and feelings?

"Just 'cos this chip doesn't let me kill any more doesn't mean I don't want to," he shouted, running a hand through his hair.

"You know that I wanted to do to you in that alleyway tonight, you dim cow?" he said, lowering his voice and walking towards her. "I wanted to tear your throat out and leave you for dead. And if this chip wasn't in here," he continued, slamming the heel of his hand into his forehead with enough force to bruise. Tara recoiled back as far as she could from him, her body started to shake slightly. "I bloody would have, too. Would've enjoyed it, would've taken what I wanted from your body and left you lying in the dirt."

Spike stood back and crossed his arms, a cruel smirk pulling at his lips as he watched her watch him. But he didn't feel pleased with himself, no, that'd be too bloody simple wouldn't it? What he did feel was a sickly knot of guilt in his stomach. Great, he was turning into fucking Angel, now.

"So what's the verdict now then, pet? Still prince bloody charming?"

"Liar," she spat, suddenly feeling a bit more on the sober side and getting up from the bed. "If you were so cold and unfeeling then what I said wouldn't have bothered you. If you were as 'dead' as you want people to think you wouldn't be spending any time with me. You wouldn't be mourning over Buffy, a Slayer no less, which you claimed to love even though you knew she'd never ever look at you for anything more than a punching bag. She saw you as a monster. But I don't. I don't see you like that Spike. I see a man when I look at you, I see someone that wouldn't have killed me in the alley as you claim because you couldn't bear to do it. You wouldn't be able to bear doing that to Dawn. She's had enough pain and suffering in her life and you're one of the people who don't give her that. You're not going to change that."

_Bitch _He was so angry...so fucking angry...suddenly the chip didn't matter, all he wanted to do was tear her pretty little throat out.

"No matter how much you try you will never be able to kill William. Never Spike, you can kill and try to hurt people from now till the world really does fade away. But he'll always be there." With every word she moved towards him, confronting him to the point where he couldn't ignore it.

Oh yeah? Never mind the pain, how dare she...

William? What? How did she...?

"You use that chip as a crutch. You don't want people to know that you've managed to do something that Angel could never do without a soul. Control the demon. If you really wanted to you wouldn't let that chip stop you from what you wanted. I know you. You and I are alike Spike. Except you have the ability to act it out. I don't." Tara spun on her heel and walked away from him, obviously finished with her attempt to pour salt into every wound he had.

As she reached the bathroom door her eyes rolled back in her head and her knees went from under her. Thinking quickly Spike grabbed her before she hit the ground, but part of him wanted to let her fall, part of him wanted to put her on the ground myself. But something held him back.

William.

No. It bloody was not, not that tosser, he wasn't William, not anymore. He never brought him any thing but p-- trouble. Cecily didn't want him, Dru didn't want him, and Buffy...well he never bloody knew what she wanted. But that's why he'd buried William long ago, he was a waste, he was nothing. End of sodding discussion. Bloody stupid bint, can't hold her liquor, he thought as he gathered her into his arms and carried her to the bed.

She was out cold. What did she think she was playing at? What did she know about him? Not a sodding thing, that's what.

Spike laid Tara down, placing her head on the pillows and pulling the blankets over her. She was beautiful...couldn't help but see it now, and what she said? That took guts, she was something all right. He wondered briefly if he'd always be stuck in this place, somewhere between wanting to hurt her and wanting to be with her every second of the bloody day and night.

He smoothed her hair back from her forehead and tucked the blankets tightly around her. She wouldn't be waking up any time soon, so it didn't matter if she slept alone or not, she'd never know.

Spike pulled on his boots and picked up his duster. Looking back at her one more time before turning to go, he suddenly realised he really didn't want to leave. He could just go over there and lay down beside her...give in, it'd be so easy.

But instead, he picked up a pen and some paper...

_Tara,_

_Be round tomorrow night to help you take those sodding ferrets to a shelter._

_Thanks for the whiskey and...thanks, all right?_

_Spike._

Backing away, he left the note on the pillow beside her and walked quickly from the bedroom and out of the house. It wasn't 'till he got outside that he realized that he hadn't even glanced at Buffy's room when he walked past it.

And all he could think about was Tara.


	6. Chapter 6

Tara's eyes started to flutter open, the feeling of a rough tongue on her cheek, coupled with a soft humming noise it made her giggle sleepily. Popping open one eye she found herself looking into a pair of blue eyes. Kitten eyes. "Huh?"

She slowly rolled over and looked at the time. 5:30. Rubbing her eyes and taking a closer look at the clock it was **PM**. How the heck? She couldn't remember the last time she slept this long, surely someone would have woken her up by now…

Taking a deep breath Tara looked over at the kitten and everything from the night before came crashing down over her – much like the migraine she was experiencing.

Spike…tequila…kittens…poker…kissing…kissing Spike.

"Oh god." She put her hand over her face unable to believe what happened or what had been said. What had been done; she couldn't believe she had even asked him to…

With a start she sat straight up, pulling the sheet up to her chest; her wide eyes darted around the room looking for Spike. "S-Spike?" Tara groaned at the sound of her own voice, it vibrated in her ears and made her head throb even worse. There wasn't any sign of Spike anywhere.

Tara shifted in the bed and heard wrinkling; turning her head slowly she saw one of the kittens attacking a piece of paper. After some wrestling Tara managed to get the now mangled paper from its grasp.

_Tara, _

Be round tomorrow night to help you take those sodding :unreadable: shelter.

Thanks for the whiskey and...t :unreadable:

Spike.

Whiskey and what? We…we didn't right…

Her eyes widened again and she looked down and saw that she was wearing clothes. Not that it meant anything. Clothing doesn't mean someone did or didn't. It just mean's they're covered up. Covered up is good.

_Did we…but I'd remember…wouldn't I?_

Tara ran her fingers through her hair and placed her elbows on her knees, her mind slowly running over everything that had happened the night before.

There had been drinking. Beating Spike and his friends at poker. More drinking. More poker. Then kissing. She had asked him to stay only because she didn't want to be alone. He agreed, there was kissing; a lot of it and then…

Scrunching her nose Tara tried to remember what had happened. Bits of conversation came floating back to her consciousness; it all seemed almost like a nightmare.

_Dim cow…would've taken what I wanted from your body and left you lying in the dirt… _

Liar.

…she'd never ever look at you for anything more then a punching bag. Saw you as a monster. But I don't. I don't see you like that Spike.

…No matter how much you try you will never be able to kill William. Never…

…You and I are alike Spike. Except you have the ability to act it out. I don't…

Tara swallowed hard and her face went pale. She said all that to him and it amazed her that she was still alive. He didn't rip her to shreds or have one of his demon friends do it?

Taking a deep breath she decided it was time to move and with painful slowness she got out of the bed and walked over to the dresser. Looking over it, she tried as quietly as possible to find an herb that her mother had used many times before in her fathers coffee the morning after his poker nights.

"There you are." She smiled slightly, feeling a small bit of relief wash over her. Tara set it on the dresser, grabbing some clothes, slowly making her way into the bathroom to shower and get dressed. The sun was almost down and Spike would be here soon like he said.

Tara wasn't so sure she was ready for that just yet.

Tara still couldn't believe what had gone on, she couldn't believe that she had actually called him _William_ to his face…and she still hada pulse.

Looking in the bathroom mirror, she blushed when she started to remember finding out about Spike's human past. She remembered reading the Watchers diary on him – several times actually. His poetry on first read left something to be desired, but if you wrote it and you looked past the slightly jumbled words and tried to get into the real meaning – they were beautiful. Poet's words that spoke to a poet's heart.

She coveted those poems. Not even Willow ever knew that Tara read them, let alone liked them.

After her shower she started getting dressed, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror and it made her gasp. Her upper thighs were covered in bruises from his hands. Taking a deep breath she pulled on a pair of jeans, wincing when they brushed against the bruise. Tara slipped on a long sleeved Old Navy shirt before brushing her damp hair out. She looked into the mirror and decided she looked semi-presentable, aside from the tribal drums in her head.

Slipping on a pair of shoes, she leaned over and picked up the kitten that had given her the wake up call, along with the herb for her coffee, before heading down the stairs.

Tara paused by Dawn's door. "Dawnie?" she whispered, peaking into the younger girl's room and saw no sign of her. _That's odd, it's late and she's usually here around now, she would have woken me up too._ Sighing, Tara made her way down the stairs and into the kitchen to put onsome coffee. She'd rather tea but that's what the herb needed to be in and if she was going to get rid of this hangover then she had to deal.

The one thing Tara wasn't sure she could handle was seeing Spike now. She had made a fool of herself, not to mention she said and did things that she should have never said. She wasn't entirely sure what possessed her to act the way she did the night before.

Grief was the only answer she could think of.

Sighing softly she sat on the stool in the kitchen, idly stirring her coffee and wondering if she'd ever be able to be friends with Spike now.

Spike was surprised he hadn't worn a groove into the floor of the crypt with all the pacing he'd done since he left Tara back at the house. His mind was filled with her face and all of the talking she'd done.

When he first got home he was pissed off… unbelievably pissed off actually. The thought of going back there and setting her straight, about all of it, it was pride and…hell, he didn't even know what it was. It was wrong, he was wrong.

_I see a man when I look at you, I see someone that wouldn't have killed me in the alley as you claim because you couldn't bear to do it._

She was right.

Spike didn't want her to be right, he simplycouldn't have done it. She was right. This wasn't the first time he'd thought about what he'd do if he had the chip out; but could he really go back to what he was? He'd been reined in so long it seemed like a distant memory.

The idea of being stuck like this – in limbo – was almost maddening to him.

In the early days he would spend every waking minute fantasizing about all of the things he could do and who he'd do it to first when the chip was finally gone. Those fantasies revolved mostly around having his way with Buffy, in every sense of the phrase, but after a while – when she finally let him in just a little – those thoughts nearly stopped.

The urge to feed was still there, there were some nights that it consumed him. He'd be out and see a girl walk by in a short skirt and the urges would come back so fast it nearly drowned him. He'd barely be able to think of anything else because of it; but there was something else too – buried under the need – a sort of nagging feeling. He would imagine the girl, the things he'd do to her and instead of feeling pleasure Spike's stomach would turn. The only way he figured out how to cure that was heading out to Willie's and beating up a demon or two to forget. He always thought it was the chip, that he'd been conditioned like a dog.

But what if she was right?

_"No matter how much you try you will never be able to kill William. Never Spike, you can kill and try to hurt people from now till the world really does fade away. But he'll always be there."_

Spike feared that it was his humanity coming to the surface…

That thought did its share of stomach turning, but maybe…maybe that was all down to the conditioning too, except a different kind, of course. When Dru first turned him all he wanted was her, to love her, spoil her and treat her like a princess. Feeding was athrill and a necessity but he took more pleasure in being with her than he did hurting other people. They were all meaningless to him, nothing more than a meal.

Love, that's what he still carried with him when Dru first turned him and she knew it as soon as he turned his own mother. He did that out of compassion, but Dru said it was out of weakness and he believed her; she was his Sire after all. After that he started to bury all of his feelings, all of them, except the ones he had for her…even some of them while Angelus was still lording over them.

But what if he was right back where he started?

No feelings? Tara was right, he was kidding himself, he always felt more than was considered 'proper' for a vampire. Angelus, Darla and most of the time even Dru didn't care about anything that happened, anything they did. But Spike always had, he always felt _something_. They said it was a weakness, hell even Buffy implied it…

_"You use that chip as a crutch. You don't want people to know that you've managed to do something that Angel could never do without a soul. Control the demon."_

But Tara? She didn't.

Pulling away from his reverie, he glanced out of the tiny window high up on the crypt's wall finding himself gazing up at the stars. He hadn't even noticed that it was nightfall already and he remembered that Tara would be expecting him. He promised to help her with the kittens but…the idea of going back there now filled him with dread.

When Spike thought about her he realized he was getting those old familiar feelings in the pit of his stomach, the one that told him he was heading for trouble with this girl. But what he was really afraid of was that she'd tell him to leave and never come back. He had enough enemies and friends were so hard to come by now.

He opened the door to the crypt, pulling his jacket on and heading towards the house, hoping she would tell him to get lost because it would make his life easier. But the other part of him hoped to whatever God that would listen to a prayer from a demon that she'd invite him in and let him stay forever.

Spike knew then he was in big trouble.

Tara was drinking her third cup of coffee and hangover herb, she was fully deep in thought when she heard a tap on the door. The knock sounded hesitant and she wondered if they had the right address.

Biting her lip she tilted her head towards the back door, trying to get a view of the figure behind it. She couldn't see through the curtains so she stood and tentatively went to the door.

Before Tara even reached to pull the curtain back she knew who it was, she could never forget that scent, it was all over her sheets and clothes she woke up in.

Spike.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath to calm the emotions running through her; the biggest emotions being fear and confusion. Something had happened last night, something clicked…

Last night was last night. It was over. It was a mistake.

Tara knew she was just his drunken excuse for Buffy and he was a way for her not to feel numb and alone.

All she felt was guilt now, so much so her heart hurt because of what happened. It was too soon after she lost Willow; her lover's body wasn't even cold…

No. It was cold. She remembered, she remembered the feel of Willow's skin when she held onto her as best she could as Xander carried her from the woods. The reality that Tara was alone in the world again weighed down on her like a brick.

Tara's thoughts were broken when she heard the door again, this time more insistent; almost impatient. Taking a deep breath, she gathered all her courage that she had to open the door. Spike stood on the other side, leaning against the door surrounded by cigarette smoke, the only sound was his heel grinding his snubbed out butt into the wood of the porch.

She didn't wait for him to enter, she simply nodded and turned back to sit on one of the island stools to finish her coffee. She dug her heels into the rung on the stool and looked intently at the bottom of her cup, looking at it as if it held all the answers she needed. She wished it were that easy, she didn't have any answers.

Spike stood there for a moment, watching Tara as she moved almost painfully back to her seat. His stomach twisted at the sight of her, the urge to smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Even in her current very hung-over state he thought she was beautiful. It was then he knew he was in trouble and there was no denying it this time.

"Thought maybe you'd decided to skip town after all," he blurted out, walking in as she paid no attention to him. He knew it was going to be awkward but he didn't think it would be _this_ awkward. Well, unless Xander was there to protect her and throw his apparently evil self out.

"Thought you didn't want me to leave..." she whispered, not looking up from her cup.

He frowned and muttered, "Didn't mean it like-" Stopping mid sentence he found himself glancing down the hall and listening for any signs of life in the rest of the house, after a moment he concluded that it was just the two of them – again. His stomach twisted at the realization, nothing good ever came out of them being alone together and he knew he didn't want yet another fight.

"So, where are the little buggers, then?" he said, digging his hands into his pockets as he glanced around for the kittens. "Got their catnip packed and all that?"

Taking the final sip of her coffee she stood and brought it to the sink to rinse it out. "You don't pack catnip if you want them to stay calm and quiet." She spoke with the same even tone, her insides so confused and filled with emotion she couldn't name what they were anymore.

Spike flinched slightly at the coldness of her tone, she had an ice queen feeling about her that made him remember a dark haired cheerleader from back in the old days…

He knew she was regretting what happened but it stung that she wouldn't look at him. But maybe it was a blessing, he knew what happened when he looked into her eyes.

Tara wiped her hands on a dishtowel and looked up at him, she noticed his eyes and the scent that only he could make smell good – blood, leather and smoke – filled her senses.

No. No. Can't. That won't do. That can't. What is wrong with you, you whacked in the head Wicca! You just buried your girlfriend and now you're lusting after some dead vampire! Get a grip.

Taking a deep breath she ran her fingers through her hair and whimpered softly. "T-they're in the living room…They're all packed i-in an old case I h-had when w-w-we had Miss Kitty…"

Spike wasn't surprised by her business like tone, he couldn't blame her and the thought that he should apologize for last night crossed his mind. He was out of line; then again so was she and Tara was apparently not offering to kiss and make up.

Kiss.

'No, no bloody way. I wasn't going to think about that, what I was going to do was help her with these damn things, be glad she wasn't interested in me – in that way at least – and leave for good. Period. End of story.'

Spike found himself saying differently. "You okay, pet?" He always was a glutton for punishment.

Tara stopped short and Spike nearly collided with her, only stepping back when she spun around to face him, a mixture of rage and despair filling her eyes. That wasall she felt, that wasall she knew how to feel anymore. Not to forget confusion…lots of confusion. "You have the nerve to ask me that?" Her voice was quiet and emotionless because she didn't think she actually _had_ emotions connectedto this…whatever _this_ was. "I'm fine," she finally ground out before spinning on her heel and heading into the living room and grabbing one of the baskets of kittens and waiting for Spike to take the other. "There's a shelter down on Prescott. It's a no-kill shelter; they'll get to a good home there." Tara looked down and scratched one of the kittens head's. They were cute and sweet and the thought of keeping one crossed her mind; but she decided against it when she remembered what Dawn did to Miss Kitty.

Spike was quiet and Tara turned and looked over her shoulder, looking up at him. "W-what?" Her cheeks reddened as she started to remember bits of last night and what had happened. '_It was wrong, so very wrong. It was wrong because I liked it…'_

"I…_I_ have the nerve to ask if _you're_ fine?" Spike shouted, disbelievingly. "What the bloody hell…?" His eyes widened. "Oh, sod this. I'm not staying around for this. You wanted my help with these little ferret-looking things so that's why you didn't throw me out as soon as I came over, but we both know it would've been a different story if you hadn't needed anything from me." His temper flared and he turned on his heel _'How dare she? After everything she said last night **she** should be apologizing to me!'_

"You know you're a piece of work!" he shouted, turning from the doorway and glaring back at her. "Last night you were so convinced I had such deep feelings about every little thing. What? Did you just want to make me admit it so you could turn around and walk all over them?"

_'Did I just say? Oh, bloody hell…'_

"Bugger this," he spat and stalked to the back door. He'd had it, he was done being a doormat for women.

Tara stood there, unable to speak and finding herself flinching at his tone before she found her speech again. "Just because Cecily walked on you doesn't make every woman like that. In case you didn't notice Spike, **I'm** the one that gets trampled on."

The second that name left Tara's lips Spike stopped in his tracks, turning and facing her as she continued to talk. "Yes Spike, go on and run." She was muttering as she turned towards the stairs, deciding to let Xander take the kittens tomorrow; Spike could still hear her words. "Run away like you did that night at the party. Go off and run, it's what you do best isn't it? Except Dru won't be around to save you from yourself this time."

Spike knew a lot about rage, he'd lived with Angelus and Dru for over twenty years…but it hadbeen a long time since he'd been this mad. Everything inside him blurred until all he could see and hear were her words and in an instant he was in front of her, reaching out to grab her.

The momenthis hand wrapped around her upper arms he felt a shock like lightening hit him directly in the head. It was blinding and made him remember what getting hit with a two-by-four felt like. The pain only made Spike grip Tara's arms tighter and jerk her so hard so she slammed into the wall, crying out and causing the chip to go off again.

"Arrrghhh!" he cried out, the pain as the chip kept firing. "FUCK!" he screamed again, punching the wall as tears started streaming down his face. Even with all the pain, Spike's mind couldn't get off the fact of what Tara had said to him; he couldn't understand how she knew all of it and if she knew how she could say something like that to him…

The pain started to fade and Spike stood up, looking down at her clearly for the first time since the chip fired and he knew he must look like a wimp with red eyes – from the chip of course, not from anything she said. His hand tightened around her arms again, looking her straight in the eyes. "You know, I thought you had something," he sneered at her. "Thought you had strength or…I don't know, something that made you special. But I see it now; you're just the same as the rest of them, a nasty bitch," he spat, moving close enough to her that he could feel her body heat. "And people say I'm evil." Spike could see a flicker of hurt flash over her eyes and he only grinned wider.

"Don't ever talk about Dru, she was crazy _and_ evil, but she never said anything like that to me." With that he turned and walked slowly towards the back door.

Tara gathered her strength and moved away from the wall, moving over towards the door and getting there before he did; there was nothing but fury in her eyes. Before she knew it Tara shoved Spike against the wall and into the hanging pot rack. "How _dare_ you call me that. How dare you say those things to me. You think that because you're a neutered vampire you can make me feel small like _him_?" Her eyes narrowed and she got into his face; knowing at this point it was clear she'd lost her mind as her eyes finally met his. "I guess you don't like the truth, Spike. I thought you out of everyone were tired of lies."

Stepping back from him, Tara started to take slow, deep breaths as she slammed the door open, the knob hitting Spike in the gut. Her face didn't change – even though he could smell the smallest hint of fear – she didn't lose her footing and she knew she couldn't afford to. "Leave. I don't want to see you here. Ever. If I see you around here you _will_ regret it. I will shove a soul so far up your…" Her jaw rotated in anger and her arms crossed over her chest, proving to him she was serious. "Leave. Now."

Spike stood there – speechless – and unsure of what to do. He knew he'd been threatened and after what happened with Angelus, he should know better than to piss someone off that had power and the ability to shove anything up his ass…let alone a soul. He couldn't seem to make his mouth form words, knowing he most likely looked like a fool as he stood there with his mouth open. All of this was from a girl who was half his size and had wounded him with _words_ of all things. But it was apparent that she was good at it.

Tara just kept on staring at him, her arms crossed and her look hard and impassive. Giving up Spike turned and walked out the door, slamming it hard as the anger started to burn through his veins like fire. It was so bad it was making him shake slightly like some weak schoolboy in his first fight; he felt angry, pissed off, ashamed and…everything.

He felt like he wasn't sure who that was at the house, that wasn't the Tara he knew. It was like she was a different girl…or maybe it was last night that she wasn't herself or maybe losing Willow was all too much for her that this was who she was now.

Last night she was just so…

Kicking a rock hard across the backyard, Spike decided he wasn't' going to think about it, he wasn't going to think about her or anything to have to do with her ever again. Next stop L.A. At least there he knew there was someone he could lay into without his chip going off. '_Yeah, a throw down with Angel would really hit the spot right about now…'_

Sunnydale, and everyone in it, could go to hell.

The second Spike slammed the door, Tara found herself crumpling to the floor, the resolve she had disappearing faster than a speeding trainand she soon found her body wracked with sobs; her mind was filled with the conversation she'd just had with him…another one ending in a blow out between the two of them.

_I can't believe I did that, I said that to him. Oh god, I'm such a horrid person. Who would say things like that to someone who was a friend to you when your own friends were nowhere to be found? I can't believe I did that…I…How could I have done that? I mentioned her and he didn't kill me. He should have – chip or no chip – but I shouldn't have mentioned her or thrown her in his face._

But she knew she did and there wasn't anything she could do to take any of it back, the words were said and everyone was angry…there was no going back.

The words Spike said to her in anger rang in her ears. _"You know, I thought you had something…Thought you had strength or…I don't know, something that made you special. But I see it now; you're just the same as the rest of them, a nasty **bitch**. And people say I'm **evil**."_

She didn't mean to, the words just came out, she was hurt and angry and…he called her _evil_. Tara's father used to call her that, he called her the spawn of hell and warned her that her powers would bring nothing but pain to those she loved. But she couldn't help it, those words…she just snapped…it made her feel like she was seventeen and helpless again…

Tara jumped when she heard the front door, wiping her eyes quickly and looking up. "S-Spike?" Her face fell slightly when she saw that it wasn't Spike, it was Xander. The smell of pizza flowed into the room and from the smell of it she knew the pizza was for Dawn. Tara didn't eat mushrooms and sausage.

"Hey Tar-. Hey, what happened?" Xander pointed to the fallen pot rack and Tara's obvious upset appearance.

Forcing a smile, Tara shook her head. "N-nothing, just a b-bad night," she lied, tucking her hair behind her ear and braving a smile as she stood up, wincing when she saw her own reflection in the microwave.

He smiled and walked over to her, hugging her slightly. "Why don't you go upstairs and take a rest. The Dawnster will be back from Janis' soon and Anya and I will look after her. Go up and take a bath and relax, okay? It's been a long week and you need the rest."

"T-there's kittens…in the living room…I-I was supposed to bring them to a s-shelter…" she started weakly.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of it. Now go upstairs and relax," he insisted.

She knew there was no winning in this argument and at some point she started to feel out of place when everyone got together. It was best she took that much-needed rest…

Nodding in submission, she sighed and headed up the stairs, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her head bowed down and unable to shake this horrid feeling she had. It was her own doing and she knew she was going to have to deal with it now.

Tara was unable to grasp that she had actually snapped at him; he's a friend – was a friend – maybe the only one she really had right now. They had fun together – inspite of all the fighting – and…

But that was the problem; Tara knew what the problem was. They had fun together. They had fun together and she forgot; it was too soon to forget, it wasn't right.

It happened and they did.

She sat heavily on the bed, putting her head in her hands as her body started shaking with quiet sobs again. Partly in relief that she was still alive after all the horrid things she said, how mad he had been at her…she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen someone so angry.

Sniffling, she stood and started to shed her clothes, slipping her terrycloth robe on, a soft thud causing her to look down and making her gasp. Watchers Diary: William the Bloody.

Taking a deep breath, she picked it up with shaky fingers and pulled it open to one of the many dog-eared pages and found herself drawn into the words yet again.

_"Oh, lark. Grant a sign if crook'd be Cupid's shaft.  
Hark, the lark, her name it hath spake." _

"My heart expands...'tis grown a bulge in it...inspired by your beauty, effulgent."

Her fingers flipped through the pages and mixed with his words were ones that were her own. She loved poetry but never thought she was good enough to show anyone; so she chose to write privately, she wrote them and hid them where nobody would look. Part of her knew that he – maybe the old part of him – wouldn't poke fun and maybe even appreciate them.

Tears fell onto the page and Tara cried out angrily, nothing but a shrill scream of frustration and anger, her body filling with feeling she'dnever felt before.

Stalking over to the window, she pulled it open and without so much as a second glance she tossed the book – her notes and all – out the window, slamming it shut behind her and heading into the bathroom for a long hot bath, accompanied with a good cry.

Tara spent well over an hour in the tub, not feeling relaxed in the slightest and only filled with the feelings of being frustrated and lost.

'_I didn't know what I was going to do; I didn't know what I wanted to do. The one person in this town that understood me…I threw him out. I told him to never come back. But I didn't mean it. I was only angry and frustrated and hurting. I didn't mean any of it.'_

She knew she couldn't take it back; if she took it back then Spike would see that he could walk all over her. She would be just another girl he could trample on, she had to standher ground regardless of how she felt…of how she really felt.

Moving slowly, Tara walked to the mirror and brushed out her hair, slipping on the robe again. Shewas too weary to look for a pair of pajamas so she settled on the robe. It wasn't like anyone was going to check on her, she had heard Xander leave with Anya and Dawn a while ago. Nobody came to check on her.

He used to.

Not any more though.

Without even bothering to climb under the blankets, Tara curled up on one side of the bed, closing her eyes and hoping to rid herself of the image of his face...not when he was angry. All she could see was his tear-streaked face. He could deny it all he wanted and say it was the chip but now they both knew better.

Tucking her damp hair behind her ear, she tried to drift to sleep, it was hard with everything on her mind and the sheet smelling like Spike didn't help either.

But eventually exhaustion overpowered her mind.

"_Leave. Now."_

He did as she demanded, but he didn't get too far. He managed to storm his way to the corner, amazed at how much pure rage will fuel you. But as soon as he got to the corner something stopped him.

_"Just because Cecily walked on you..." _

"...go on and run. Run away like you did that night at the party..."

It perplexed him how she knew all of that; it was ancient history – literally – and not to mention it was his private business. Nobody knew about Cecily or that night…except for Dru…

He wondered if he told Tara last night when he was drunk; but he remembered everything that happened last night, vampire constitution was good for that and he knew he hadn't spoke a word to her. '_How the hell did she know?'_

Spike couldn't figure it out and it was starting to eat at him, turning quickly he turned and stormed back to the house. It was one thing to be angry, but it was another to have a hundred unanswered questions moving around in his head. It wouldn't make for a good day's sleep either.

'_Quick round of fists and fangs with a couple of the gormless vamps that ran the streets of this town would take care of the rage, but the only thing that could give me piece of mind is asking that bint how she knew all my bloody private business.'_

When he finally reached the house he stopped under the tree near the back door for a quick smoke to calm down. While he was smoking, he tried to rack his brains again, making sure he hadn't told her. It was one thing to waltz in there and demand to know how she knew his business, but the last thing he wanted to do was to turn himself into a fool, again...and what's more, he didn't need it to be turned into anything or have anything shoved up anywhere. Tara seemed angry enough to do it too, bloody hell, Spike had never even seen Buffy that pissed--

Buffy.

Spike remembered telling Buffy about that night and what happened with Cecily, when she asked him to tell her how he had offed those two slayers. That had been a barrel of laughs. If his memory was right, it ended with her telling him that he was beneath her.

He decided that washow Tara knew about Cecily and everything…Buffy told her. For the first time since her death Spike was pissed off at her. But the bigger part of him knew that Buffy was right when she said that. Spike was beneath her, he was beneath Tara too. The things he had said to her last night…

'_Oh hell, what about all the things she just said to me? I was a soft git. I really, really...'_

"Ow!" Spike growled as something hard landed on his head. "What the bloody hell…" Turning he glanced at the window – realizing that it was Tara's window – watched as the light went out. "Bitch," he spat, looking down at his feet to see what she had thrown.

His eyes spotted a book and he reached down and picked up the old brown leather bound book, turning it over in his hands and wondering why she would throw a book at him, of all things. Spike opened it at a random page, not paying attention till he spotted his own name…

_"...once known as William the Bloody, now seems to favor the name Spike..."_

He stared at the pages as if they would disappear if he so much as blinked.

_"...As Buffy tells it. So it appears the name William the Bloody was in fact in reference to his "Bloody awful poetry" and not, as once thought, related to his killing habits, although..."_

"Ooh," he said softly, the realization of what he had in his hands dawning on him. "A Watcher's Diary. So she's been having a good laughat my expense haven't you then, love?" he spoke to the darkened window. His blood boiled again, realizing that this was how she knew all about him and his past.

Spike flipped through the pages some more, some of the writing obviously old and some of it looked new, most likely added by Giles when Buffy broke his confidence and told him everything Spike had told her. "Bitch."

Grinding his cigarette out against the tree, he decided that it was his lucky night after all, it wasn't every day – or ever if he thought about it – that a vampire got a hold of something that was so heavily safeguarded against prying eyes.

He shoved the book into his pocket and turned back down the street, making it his mission to get a bottle of something strong and go home to have himself a good read. Now he knew how Tara knew about his past, which meant he never had to see her again.

That thought didn't bring Spike the joy he thought, but that thought made him just a little bit sad.


End file.
